


Negotiations

by Auntie_Dot



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 05:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15678900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auntie_Dot/pseuds/Auntie_Dot





	Negotiations

They arrived upon the wings of the mechanical angel.

 

Some within the capital proclaimed that it was a rapture. Not even the guards fought against the machines. For none of them opened fire.

 

The machines arrived to the palace. The large, spacious palace, blues and golds and whites adorned, reminiscent of a Tsar’s estate on Earth. They broke not a door, nor window. It was all reinforced with the strength of Humanity’s greatest minds and engineers. They need not break one window, fore through Slipspace did they enter.

 

One in particular.

 

It was Cortana’s first visit to Siberia-Prime. The planet, if one could call it that, was a former Spartan’s home. That former Spartan had made themselves leader over these souls surrounding them.

 

 _Didn’t she learn from history to not live in such opulence_ , Cortana wondered to herself. The halls were of white walls, dark wooden floors, with wide windows that tinted the system’s blue star to something more comfortable to the human eye, with dark wooden doors that were likely reinforced with Titanium-A panels.

 

The door couldn’t keep the AI out. She phased through the double doors at the end of the hall. A woman awaited her, sitting at a large dark desk, surrounded by antique books and souvenirs of a life lived. The human before Cortana wore the distinct, plain uniform of a Spartan. Her silver hair was pulled back in a tight bun fasted close to her head.

 

They stared at one another. It took but milliseconds for the AI to recall that this Spartan had lost sight due to augmentations, and was gifted with implants.

 

“Get off my planet.” The woman’s tone calm, thick with a Russian accent.

 

“There is no UNSC to threaten me with” Cortana replied. She noted the woman, the _Spartan_ , bore no clear weapon. But this one was cleaver.

 

 _Mouse_ as was once her nickname. A cadet who often bucked against indoctrination and paid dearly for it. A cadet who washed out because of the lackings that starvation and malnutrition had created. Doomed blinded, unable to walk by Cortana’s own creator.

 

The woman struggled to her feet. With the help of the chair she sat herself in and a cane, she managed the task alone.

 

“This is no Red October. I will not step down from being my peoples’ shepherd.” The woman used the cane to stand as straight as her body allowed. Confidence seeped from within her unblinking, sapphire gaze.

 

“So, you do remember _some_ of your studies.” Cortana was unfazed. There was nothing the woman, nor the populace, could do to her. There was no physical form to harm. The humans, on the other hand…

 

“Stand down, Spartan. Your task here is complete.”

 

“Leave my system and we’ll talk.”

 

“If I withdraw, your system will be placed under lock down. I fail to see where you can import rations for your people from other planets in the system.”

 

The woman’s eyes narrowed. It wouldn’t be her blood on Cortana’s hands. No, blood would be on the civilians’. A true revolution. “I can leave-”

 

“What is it you want” she asked. Shoulders and feet shifted stance. Head tipped a little. But within those sapphire eyes, rebellion still burned.

 

“You may still lead your people. As long as you cooperate, you will receive your rations on time. Don’t, and...well, do I really need to spell it out for you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then _comply_ , and we won’t have a problem.” Cortana needn’t wait for an answer. It was in the woman’s shifting form. The woman was already planning something, that much was certain. For now, the washout wouldn’t be a problem.

 

Not _yet._

 

* * *

 

 

Once the AI was gone, Annya flopped back down in the chair. She felt like the walls had eyes. Or was that because she hadn’t taken her medication for the last few days?

 

It didn’t matter. For all she knew, the damn things _could_ watch her.

 

Once more, a cage had enclosed the washout. What was once her freedom suddenly felt like shackles. But within her life was rebellion. Her home wasn’t razed to the ground. Not like how Artem recanted of Earth.

 

_Artem._

 

Annya stood up and hurried to the neighboring room. Upon opening the door, she was greeted with the fearful face of her younger sibling. He stood up, hurried to the washout and wrapped his arms around her. At first, he smiled at her. He needed to only see the look on her face to realize their situation.

 

“We...”

 

“To keep our people safe” the washout replied. Artem helped her to a seat next to the door and sat down with her. They remained together as the situation began to unfold between the two.

 

“How ironic.” He shook his head and flashed a hollow smile. Annya turned to him with a raised brow. “The capital’s name. Our situation. History is trying to repeat itself, Anya.”

 

“I am no Nicholas” Annya replied. “These are no Bolsheviks.”

 

“Then where’s your White Army? Scattered out in the wilderness.”

 

The siblings fell silent. They were both well aware of their family’s long, troubled history. And now it felt like their doom was beginning to turn its head their way. Was it genetics for them to fail?

 

No.

 

“She won’t kill you, Anya. Because you trained with Chief. You’re family to him as much as I. And if you die under her care...”

 

“She doesn’t have to raise a hand.” They fell quiet once more. And for hours, sat together. The weight of their shackles weighed on their souls.

 

“At least we have the estate still” Artem muttered. “And it doesn’t have a basement.”


End file.
